Missing
by Sennalyn
Summary: Roy DeSoto arrives home late to find his wife missing. Where has she gone? What could have happened to her? Roy races to find the answers before it's too late. Complete.


**Missing **

**Disclaimer**  
_"Emergency!" and its characters are owned by Mark VII Productions and Universal, I think. I'm not really sure who owns all that. All I know is **I** don't own any of it, nor would I want to. No infringement on any copyrights or trademarks is intended in any way, shape, or form. This is just a story, and is meant for fun, nothing else. Enjoy!_

Roy DeSoto backed the bright red rescue squad carefully into the apparatus bay, and turned off the engine. Leaning back in the seat, he closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Many more heavy sighs, as well as groans and moans, could be heard as the other weary firefighters climbed out of the fire engine that pulled in next to the squad, stretched their sore muscles, and slowly made their way to either the locker room for a hot shower and change of clothes, or the kitchen for some coffee.

Station 51's A-shift had been called out early in the morning to fight a major brush fire, along with several other stations in LA county, and it wasn't until well into the evening that the fire was contained enough to send the crew of 51s home. The men were filthy, exhausted, and anxious to go home for a couple days of rest and relaxation.

Especially Roy.

Despite his aching, fatigued body, a big grin spread across the man's face, as he sat behind the wheel of the squad. Beside him, his paramedic partner, Johnny Gage, was whining about his various aches and pains, but Roy ignored him. Finally rousing himself, Roy stepped out of the squad, and headed purposely towards the back parking lot. Johnny followed him, still complaining, until he realized his partner was not only not listening to him, but wasn't heading in to shower and change either.

"Hey, Roy, where're you going?" he asked.

"Home, Junior! That brush fire's finally contained, and we're off for a couple days," Roy answered cheerfully.

"Aren't you gonna shower and change first?" Johnny asked, following Roy out to his car.

"Nope. I'm going home just like this."

Roy couldn't help but keep grinning, as he imagined what would be waiting for him at home. The children were staying with their grandparents for spring break, so he and his wife could have some much needed "grown-up time." He simply could not wait to get home.

John wrinkled his nose at his partner. "Isn't Joanne gonna kill you coming home all filthy and sweaty and stinky like that?" he asked.

"Nope. In fact, it's quite a turn-on for her!" The words spilled out before Roy could stop them, and he blushed furiously as his partner gaped at him. He usually kept his private life private, and wasn't one to discuss his and Joanne's marital activities.

"You're kidding!" Johnny exclaimed. "She _likes_ it?"

"Yeah," Roy said sheepishly, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Look, I gotta run, Junior. I'll see you in a couple days, okay?"

He turned, and in full turnout gear and helmet, soot and dirt covering him from head to toe, and sweat plastering his hair to his head, hopped in his little Porsche convertible, oblivious to the bewildered expression on his partner's face. He tuned the radio to some soft jazz, and pulled out of the station's back driveway, thinking about what a lucky man he was. Sure, there were times when he looked at Johnny's carefree bachelor lifestyle and envied it a bit, but when it came right down to it, Roy DeSoto had it all: an amazing, beautiful wife, two great kids, a nice house (okay, a helluva mortgage went with _that_, but still . . .), a great job, and some pretty cool friends, too. Johnny might have an address book full of women's names and phone numbers, but Roy knew he rarely got a second date with a girl, let alone anything else, and just had to snicker to himself. John "Casanova" Gage would be spending his time off by himself, while Roy "Boring, Old Married Man" DeSoto would be spending two days alone with his lovely wife having lots and lots of uninterrupted sex.

Roy came to a stop at a red light, and remembered the first time he'd come home directly after fighting a fire. He and Joanne were still newlyweds, and Roy was still new to the fire department. The rest of the guys had beaten him to the showers after returning late from a large warehouse fire, which had spread to a nearby chemical plant, and taken most of the day to contain. Tired and filthy, Roy had decided not to wait for his turn in the showers, and instead had headed home, which, at the time, was a small studio apartment. He walked in the door as smelly and grimy as he was now, and found his young bride sitting on the tattered, second-hand couch watching coverage of the fire on the news, crying. Roy knew there had been some fire fighters seriously injured at the blaze, and that there was at least one death, but he didn't realize they hadn't released the names of the men who'd been injured or killed. Joanne leapt off the couch into Roy's arms, weeping.

"Oh, God, Roy, I was so scared! I couldn't see you! I didn't know where you were, if you were okay!" she sobbed into his turnout coat.

"I'm fine, honey," he said, holding her tight, enjoying the feel of her warm body against him. "Just fine."

Joanne lifted her head to look at him, and she was so beautiful to him then, her face wet with tears, and smudged with soot from his turnout coat, her eyes huge and glistening, Roy was overcome with desire, and kissed her hard. She returned his kiss eagerly. After a few moments, he picked her up, carried her over to the couch, and made passionate love to his wife without even getting completely undressed.

Afterward, as they'd lain entwined together, Joanne had confessed that the smell of smoke and sweat, and the dirt and soot smudged on his face, combined with the fact that he'd come home unscathed from the fire, had sent a shock of electricity straight through her; straight to the place where she needed him the most. Her confession had aroused him, and he made love to her again, but more tenderly and with less desperation than before. Ever since then, whenever Roy could go home straight from a fire, he did so, and Joanne would be waiting for him. Even after many years of marriage, their passion burned hotter and stronger than a fully involved warehouse, with more explosions than a volatile chemical plant. After the two children arrived, however, it took a bit more maneuvering, but still they managed to find enough stolen moments to succumb to their desires.

Roy grinned at the memory of their first "Fire Sex", and at the anticipation of reliving it. The light turned green, and Roy headed off, barely aware of the news bulletin drifting out of the radio:_ " . . . young women are encouraged to stay indoors after dark . . . police have no leads . . . Midnight Strangler still at large . . . "_

Roy arrived home twenty minutes later, jumped out of the car, and ran up to the front door, bursting through it.

"Joanne! I'm home!"

He expected to see her right away, either sitting on the sofa watching television, or coming out from the kitchen, or from down the hall. He expected to hear her voice coming from somewhere in the house welcoming him home. Instead, silence, and a dark, empty house greeted him. He poked his head into the kitchen and flicked on the light to find it completely empty. There was no sign of meal preparation anywhere.

_'Huh.'_ he thought, _'Maybe we're gonna order in.'_

He headed down the hall to their bedroom. Maybe she was waiting for him there, in something slinky, or better yet, nothing at all . . .

The bedroom was also dark, and when he turned on the light, Roy could see this room, too, was empty.

"Joanne?" Roy called out again, working his way back to the living room. "Honey, I'm home! I just got back from a big fire, and I'm all dirty and smoky and sweaty, just the way you like me . . ."

The living room was still empty.

"Joanne?"

So was the kitchen.

He went past the kitchen into the family room, to find it, too, was unoccupied. He went back towards their bedroom, and because he couldn't think of anything else to do, he stuck his head in the children's rooms as well.

Damn. She wasn't home. She must've gone out to pick up something for dinner. He checked the message center in the kitchen by the phone, but found no note indicating where she'd gone.

This was very strange. Maybe she was still at her mother's.

Roy picked up the phone and dialed his mother-in-law's number. It only took a few moments to find out Joanne was not there, and after talking briefly to his two children, Roy hung up. He went down the list of Joanne's friends, calling all of them, but no one he got hold of had seen or spoken to Joanne that day.

Roy went back into the living room and sat down on the couch, removing his helmet, and leaning his head back. Staring at the ceiling, he wracked his brain trying to figure out where his wife would've gone.

Roy suddenly jerked awake. Momentarily confused as to why he was sitting on the couch in full turnout gear, Roy shook his head, remembering the events of the previous days and that evening, and realized he'd fallen asleep. He got up and stumbled into the kitchen, calling for his wife. If she'd come home while he was napping, why had she not woken him up? Another quick search of the house turned up nothing. Roy stared at the phone for a moment thinking, _"this is stupid"_, before picking it up and dialing Rampart General Hospital.

"Rampart Emergency, Nurse McCall speaking."

"Ah, Dixie, it's Roy DeSoto," Roy said.

"Roy? Hi. What's up?" Dixie sounded surprised to hear from him.

"This is probably gonna sound weird, but, ah, is my wife there? I don't know if there was an accident or something, but . . ."

"Joanne? No, I don't think she's been brought in, but let me check."

Roy drummed his fingers on the counter impatiently waiting for news.

"Sorry, Roy, she's not here. Is something wrong?" Dixie sounded concerned.

"Well, I don't know, but she's not here, and she didn't leave a note or anything. We had plans tonight, and ah, I'm starting to get a little worried."

"Tell you what, Roy," Dixie said, "I'll make a couple calls myself, and see what I can find out. You just stay there and I'll call you right back."

"Thanks, Dix." Roy hung up the phone. Suddenly a bizarre thought entered his head, and before his reasonable side could stop him, he was dialing the phone again.

"Um, ah, he . . . hello?" a groggy voice said into Roy's ear.

"Uh, sorry, did I wake you? It's Roy."

"Roy! What the hell . . . do you know what _time_ it is?" The voice was more awake now, and definitely cranky. Actually Roy didn't know what time it was, and checking the clock on the stove realized it was way after eleven in the evening.

"Sorry, Johnny, I ah . . . ah . . ."

"What!" Johnny growled into the phone.

"This is going to sound stupid, I know, but, um, is Joanne over there?" Roy regretted placing the call now, knowing how stupid it was to think that his wife could be at this partner's apartment in the middle of the night!

"What! Are you _drunk_? No, Joanne isn't here! What are you _thinking_? Jesus _Christ_, Roy . . ."

Roy absently placed the phone down as his partner began cursing loudly and whining about how offended he was at the idea that he'd have anything whatsoever to do with his partner's wife. It _was_ stupid to think that Joanne might've been at Johnny's, but Roy was, quite frankly, out of ideas. He wandered aimlessly though the empty house, the stillness stifling. He paused by the door leading out to the garage, and wondered why he hadn't thought of looking there before. Panic gripped him as he flung open the door and flicked on the light. He quickly scanned the garage, calling Joanne's name. What if she'd been up on a ladder to get something off a shelf, and had fallen down? What if she'd tried to use some of his tools to fix something and was injured, bleeding to death or something, laying there helplessly, waiting for him? Roy's mind raced with many other morbid possibilities before he stopped suddenly, his gaze landing on something: Joanne's car. Joanne's car was still in the garage, but Joanne wasn't home. He checked the car, even the trunk, out of desperation, and found it to be empty.

_The car is in the garage, but Joanne isn't here._

Roy returned to the sofa in the living room, sitting down and taking deep breaths, trying to contain his rising panic, while trying to think of where his wife might be. He leapt to his feet, crying, "Oh, my _God_!" when he suddenly remembered: Joanne had recently taken up jogging, and liked to run down to the park and back. It was a good three miles round trip, and Joanne had really been enjoying it, even trying to get Roy to join her on his days off. Usually, she went in the morning, after the kids were at school, but today, maybe she waited until they were safely ensconced at her mother's before going out. Roy suddenly recalled the snatches of the news report he'd heard on the radio earlier, as well as the various other reports and newspaper articles about the Midnight Strangler, a man who'd been stalking and murdering young women in the community for the past two months. The women had been jumped and killed in vacant lots or parking areas, and an anonymous tip had lead police to discover the bodies around midnight each time. Four young women had been murdered so far. Roy suddenly didn't like the conclusion he was jumping to.

Roy's brain went on autopilot. He headed out the door towards the park, oblivious to the fact that he was still wearing his full turnout gear. He practically ran the entire mile and a half to the park. Turning the last corner, he could see the park at last. Expecting it to be empty and quiet at this hour, he was surprised and terrified to find it a flurry of activity, with police cars, the coroner's wagon, television vans, and crowds of curious people gathered at the far end. Roy picked up the pace, sprinting towards the crowd.

"Hey, Roy, where's the fire?"

Roy had been so intent on reaching the center of activity, that he hadn't seen, and had nearly run into, Officer Vince Howard. Vince was surprised to see Roy there, dressed and ready to fight a major blaze. He stepped in front of Roy, stopping him.

"Roy, what's up?" The officer asked again.

Roy continued moving forward, pushing Vince ahead of him, toward the group of uniformed police officers and trench-coated detectives huddled around a prone, sheet draped form lying on the ground at their feet.

"Roy!" Vince said, with more authority, digging his heels in to stop Roy's progress.

Finally, Roy stopped. "Joanne . . . not home . . . no word . . ." he said, panting, his eyes not moving from the body on the grass.

"She . . . she started jogging . . . a few weeks ago," he continued, babbling now. "Got home hours ago . . . Joanne not home . . . fell asleep . . . called everyone . . .nothing . . .nothing . . ."

Vince grabbed Roy by both shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"Roy," he said. "Calm down."

Roy looked at him for the first time. "Vince, I gotta see that body!"

"Roy . . ."

"Vince! I have _got_ to see that body!" Roy was shouting now. "I have to see if that's my _wife_!"

"Okay," Vince said, leading Roy over to the body.

The officers gathered there parted for them. Many of them recognized Roy, but had never met Joanne, and didn't know if the Midnight Strangler's latest victim was the wife of one of their firefighting colleagues or not. Roy fell to his knees in the grass down beside the body, sucking in a shaky breath. The coroner squatted down by the victim's head, and Vince knelt down beside Roy, his hand on Roy's shoulder for moral, and if necessary, physical support.

The coroner pulled back the corner of the sheet, exposing the woman's pale, still face. Roy blinked twice, then released the breath he'd been holding, slumping against Vince.

"That's not her! That's not Joanne!"

He regarded the woman a moment longer. Young, probably twenty-three, shoulder-length blonde hair fanned out around her. Joanne was a little older - twenty-nine - and wore her thick, dark brown hair short, to keep it out of her face. Roy shuddered with relief. The coroner replaced the cover over the girl's face, and Roy stood up on shaky legs, assisted by Vince.

"Okay, Roy, how about I take you home. We'll figure out this thing with Joanne there, okay?"

Roy didn't resist as Vince lead him to his squad car, and helped him into the passenger side. He stared straight ahead as Vince drove him back to his house, neither man speaking. He was numb now, completely drained, but had enough emotion left in him to feel badly for the young woman's family. They probably didn't know about this yet; didn't know their loved one was dead. He felt a little guilty being relieved that the body had not been Joanne. He wondered what the girl's name was . . .

"Whoa, Roy, looks like you're having a party," Vince said with forced cheerfulness, double parking in front of the DeSotos' house.

Roy looked up then to see a second car parked in his driveway and a couple more in front of his house, and saw people silhouetted against the curtains in the living room window. He got out of the police cruiser and raced up to the house, bursting through the door.

"Joanne!" he called, oblivious to the other people milling around in the living room. He started around the corner, and nearly ran into her. She looked up at him curious and concerned.

"Roy? What's going on? Where have you been?" his wife asked.

"Where have _I_ been? Good _God_, Joanne, where have _you_ been?" he shouted, more with a surge of adrenalin coursing through him than with anger. "I've been out of my _mind_ with worry! The car was here, but you were gone, and there was no note and the house was dark, and there's a bod. . ."

"I'm_ fine_, Roy!" Joanne interrupted him. "I'm sorry! I _tried_ to call, but there was no answer, then the phone was busy for _ever_!"

"Yeah, he'd left it off the hook!" a muffled voice called from the sofa.

Roy looked over to see his partner quite comfortably seated on the sofa watching television, his mouth full of Jiffy Pop popcorn.

"Want some?" Johnny offered the aluminum packet of popcorn to Roy, who shook his head in disbelief. Johnny shrugged.

"Anyway," he continued, "I tried hanging up to call you back, but couldn't get a call through because you hadn't hung the damn phone up on your end. I came over because you sounded weird and . . . oh, wait this is the good part!"

Johnny's attention was once again on the television, where the evening's "Creature Feature" movie, _Godzilla Verses Mothra_ was playing.

Roy's head spun.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Roy, this is _all_ my fault!"

Roy looked over to see his wife's best friend, Julie Richards, looking very upset.

"What?" He asked. "Why? What _happened_?"

"Honey, Julie and I decided to go do a little shopping in Santa Barbara," Joanne explained. "It was only going to be a quick day-trip, but we lost track of the time, and when we realized how _late_ it was getting, we ran out to the car to come home, and that's when Julie realized she'd locked her keys in her car, and because it was after five by then, we couldn't get a locksmith to come out to help us." Joanne paused for a deep breath before continuing. "_Fin_ally, a couple of nice young men (they were Jehovah's Witnesses, so we figured we could trust them!) offered to help us, and after hunting around for a wire coat hanger, they were able to get the car opened. I tried to call several times, like I said . . ."

"It was so _frustrating_ to see my car keys sitting on the front seat, and not being able to _get_ to them!" Julie exclaimed.

"I know that feeling! I've been there myself."

Roy looked up, surprised to see Dixie McCall was in his house also.

"I tried calling you back, Roy, but the line was busy," she explained. "You sounded so upset, I decided to run out here myself to make sure things were okay."

"When we got here, all the lights were on and the front door was wide open, but you weren't here," Joanne continued. "I was really worried!"

"I . . . I thought you'd gone jogging," Roy said, his shaky voice barely a whisper. "I went to the park . . .God . . . Joanne, there was a girl there . . . she was dead . . . I thought . . . I thought . . ."

Unable to hold back his emotions any longer, Roy burst into tears, grabbing Joanne tightly to him, sobbing into her neck.

Julie and Dixie gasped and looked at Vince, who nodded gravely.

"Oh, my God," Dixie said. "Another one."

"Yeah," Vince said. "That makes five. Hey, do you two have transportation home? Dixie, are you headed back to the hospital?"

"Yeah, I'm going back there now," Dixie said. "Everything seems okay here, now."

"My car's right outside here," Julie said. "I'm just going to head home. Oh, wait, where're my keys?"

"Maybe you two should let me give you a ride," Vince said.

Both women declined his offer, and Julie found her keys.

"Okay," Vince said, "But I'm going to follow you home," he pointed to Julie, "then I'm heading straight to Rampart to make sure you get there okay, Dix."

"Alright, Vince, thanks," Dixie agreed.

Roy and Joanne were still locked in a deep embrace, one which now included a deep kiss as well.

"Let's get out of here, and leave these two alone," Vince said as he shepherded the two women out. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Johnny still sitting on the edge of the sofa, intently watching the television, shoving popcorn in his mouth. He went over, grabbed Johnny by the shirt collar, and began dragging him off the sofa.

"Wai, wha, waddya doing?" Johnny exclaimed, his mouth full of partially chewed, mushy popcorn.

"C'mon, Johnny, let's leave the DeSotos alone."

"But this is the good part," Johnny whined, indicating the TV screen where Mothra and Godzilla were battling it out over the Pacific.

"You can finish watching it at _home_, Johnny!"

"But, I'll miss the best _part_!"

"Come _on_!"

Vince pulled him up and shoved Johnny towards the door, popcorn flying. He felt a bit guilty about the mess, but figured Roy and Joanne probably wouldn't mind. He clicked the television off as he passed it, gently shoving Johnny out the front door.

"Alright, alright, no need to use police brutality on me, Vince!" Johnny grumbled.

"You want police brutality, Johnny, I'll give it to you if you don't leave this house right now!" Vince said chuckling.

He flicked the lock on the front door before closing it, and followed a still-complaining Johnny Gage out of the house. A small crowd had gathered in the De Soto's front yard, and sighing, Vince began dispersing them with his "nothing to see here, folks" speech. He waited until everyone had started back to their homes before climbing into his squad car, updating dispatch, and following Julie Richards' red sedan down the street.

Inside the house, the DeSotos finally came up for air, and realized they were alone.

"Roy, I'm so sorry," Joanne said. "We planned on being home way before dinner . . ."

Roy silenced her with another deep, penetrating kiss.

"Don't worry about it, hon," he said when he finished. "Everything's okay now. You're home. You're safe. Everything's okay now."

He picked his wife up, and carried her to their bedroom, laying her gently on the bed, and covered her body with his. He looked at her still worried, but slightly flushed face, tracing her lower lip with his thumb.

_'Is this what it's like for her?'_ he wondered. _'Every time I'm at a fire, and she doesn't know if I'll be okay, doesn't know exactly where I am, or when, even if, I'll be home? Does she go through this nightmare of waiting, wondering, and worrying every time?'_

Roy kissed Joanne again, his own fear and anxiety soon replaced by desire, and he made passionate love to his wife without even getting completely undressed.

The End 


End file.
